Roomies
by redrccm
Summary: A sudden incident forces Steve and Natasha to leave the country. Broken and scarred, unsure of what the future had in mind of both of them, Steve and Natasha cling to each other as the last piece of stability both have in their lives. They try to live a normal life, but the past keeps resurfacing and they realize they need each other more than they'd like to admit.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, I've been inactive for a long long time and I decided I'd start again, so I swear the next chapters are going to be better, I do.**

**~X~**

"_You know you'll have to move, right?"_

_Her words echoed, he didn't know. Well, as a matter of fact, he did, but he didn't listen,_

"_Well, anyway, I'm here for you, whatever you need." Natasha finished._

_Steve nodded, he knew it was going to be different for him, that they weren't going to come after him, he was a hero, after all, he was Captain America. By thinking that, he absolutely underestimated HYDRA, he underestimated their influence._

In between the deafening beats of the song he was listening to while running he could catch a small glimpse of what was happening around him. Steve used those few hours early in the morning to run, to let out the steam, he could lock himself in his little world, he wanted to clear his mind, it always worked, but, for some reason, it wasn't working that time.

He counted the laps to distract himself.

97… _'YOU ARE MY MISSION!' - _Steve picked up the pace  
98… _'Who do you want me to be?' - _He started to run even faster  
99… _'We are both men out of time' –_ He couldn't speed up, not any more, although he wanted to  
100… _'__sometimes the best that we can do is to start over.__' - _Steve tripped on his own feet and allowed himself to tumble to the ground.

Some people nearby ran towards him to see if he was okay, he just politely shook them off and started making his way back to his place.

Peggy, Bucky, they were all dead, Zola had surfaced again and Natasha, well, he had no idea of her whereabouts. He was lost, he was alone. He walked down the street and saw some suspicious men walking down the street and glancing at him. They weren't homeless or from gangs, just by the way they walked, Steve could tell. There seemed to be even more of them as he approached his place.

He entered his apartment and locked the door before turning to face the living room. Everything was a mess, there were papers everywhere, all of the cushions of the couch were ripped apart, the centre table was upside down, very carefully, he made his way through the hallway to the main bedroom, his mattress was ripped open and all of his clothes were thrown on the floor.

"Shit." He muttered. What if they got his shield? He looked at the empty spot where the first drawer of his dresser once was. He put his hand in there and felt around, looking for the cool metal of his shield. Much to his relief, it was there. He got it. And, just as fast as the relief washed over him, it went away, he heard footsteps, there was someone in the house.

Steve pressed his back against the wall and waited, he could hear faint sounds, no, he couldn't wait, it was better if he just ran away, he couldn't protect himself from that many men, one in the house – if not more – and more than a dozen on the streets.

He looked out of the window, yeah, he could make that jump. He opened the window and ended up making a lot of unwanted noise. Then he took a few steps back and prepared to jump, that was when he felt the gun against his back.

Steve froze, his mind searched through the options, but he didn't know what he should do.

"Stop there, Captain." A male voice whispered.

Steve wouldn't surrender, not then, not ever and especially not to Hydra. He turned around abruptly and hit the man with enough strength to make him fall to the ground along with his gun. Steve reached for the gun and got it before the man.

The black haired man on the floor shouted, and Steve prepared himself to combat the men that entered his room in the blink of an eye, he was surrounded, there were too many for him to fight. He wasn't one to run from combat, but that was certain death, besides, his bedroom was a crumpled space, it wasn't good enough for fighting.

"See ya, guys." Steve ran towards the window and jumped.

He covered his face with his arms so his face wouldn't be cut, when he landed, while executing the perfect somersault and stopping, he felt the shreds of glass going even deeper into his arms, he gritted his teeth and stood, he had to keep running, he had to get away from his neighbourhood as fast as he could.

Steve chose to go through alleys and deserted streets, though it was easier to blend in with a crowd, his bloody appearance would make people worry. When he was sure he was by himself, in a street with abandoned factories and storages, he entered one and took out his cellphone, he dialled Natasha's number.

"Hello?" Her voice sounded from the other side of the line, Steve couldn't even express in words just how good it was to hear something familiar.

"Nat? It's Steve, I need help."

"Steve? What's going on? Where are you?"

"I'll text you the coordinates, but come quick and make sure you're not being followed."

"Okay." She hung up the phone and he texted her the coordinates.

In about fifteen minutes she arrived.

He was surprised by how much she'd changed, Natasha dyed her hair black, some strands of her hair were discoloured and of a white colour; she had a piercing on her nose and was wearing some really heavy make-up. She wore tight jeans, a black shirt that exposed part of her chest, but just a little cleavage and a black leather jacket with punk boots.

"Wow." He said.

"Long story." She told him and shrugged, then she saw his bleeding arms. "Fuck, Steve, what happened to you? Wait here, I'll go fetch something in the car."

"Not going anywhere." He chuckled.

When Natasha came back, she had red hair again and her piercing was gone, but she was still wearing the same clothes, this time, she carried a bag on her hand.

She sat by his side.

"Give me your arm." She ordered and he obeyed.

Steve watched closely as she opened the bag and got a first aid kit. Natasha's eyes moved from the bag to his arm and then to the bag again.

She got a pair of tweezers and sanitized her hands before starting to work on his arm.

"Tell me what happened, will you?" She asked more softly as she wiped the blood away with a clean gauze.

"I went out for a run this morning," He started and then stopped for a moment, he gritted his teeth, she had started to remove the glass from his left arm, "everything was fine, but when I was on my way back to my apartment, I started noticing strange people everywhere, suspicious looking men."

Natasha piled up the glass shreds.

"Then, when I got to my apartment, it was all messy, someone had been in there. Then, I went to check my shield and it was there, but when I turned around… Ouch!… Well, there were about 30 men there and I couldn't fight all of them, so I jumped out of the window and started to run. I didn't stop until I got here."

"Okay, this is going to hurt." She said and got a small flask of oxygenated water and poured the liquid down his arm, making sure it passed by all of his cuts. Then she wiped the foam with a clean gauze and applied an antibiotic to the cuts.

"And what about you? When did you turn into a punk?"

"I didn't." She laughed as she worked on his right arm, "It was a disguise. You see, my hair is easily recognisable plus, I've always wanted to be a punk, even if just for a day – Now I get to be one everyday before I move. The hair, was a wig and the piercing was a pressure one."

"You're moving?" He inquired, the pain was suddenly gone, he was going to be left alone there, he would have no one he could trust as much as he trusted Natasha.

"Yup, I can't stay in the U.S any longer, Steve, they're after my head, it's too dangerous here, so I'm moving to Paris in a few days." She sighed and finished the other arm. "What about you? You're not planning on staying here, are you? After what just happened today."

Was that worry in her voice, in her eyes? "I… I don't have anywhere to go, I don't have much money and I don't have any other apartments outside of the US."

"Let me guess," Natasha placed one of her hands on his cheek, he turned her face to her slightly confused, was she going to kiss him? "You thought that since you are a 'national hero' they weren't coming after you?"

Steve chuckled. "Yes, something like that."

She got another gauze, soaked it in water and laced it softly on his forehead, wiping clean the dry blood that came from a cut just above his eyebrow. "You see, Steve. You are a hero, people look up to you, they would follow your orders no matter what. If Hydra gets their hands on you, they would use you for influence, they would brainwash you and make you work for them."

Natasha finished with the cut on his forehead and started putting what she had used back in the bag.

"Nat?" Steve asked.

"What is it, Steve." She didn't look up.

"Can I go with you? To Paris?"

"What?" Natasha looked into his eyes to check if he was serious, "Are you serious?"

"Yup."

"Steve, I keep telling everyone they should have apartments everywhere, that they should save money, look at this whole situation, I've been preparing for this kind of thing my entire life. But no one ever listens." Natasha sighed exasperated.

"I know, I know you told me, Nat, but I don't have anywhere to stay, no one to turn to, not at this time. I need help and I'm asking _you _for help. Please, please, I don't have a place to stay, I don't have clothes and I don't have money."

"Okay, you can come with me, I'll buy you some clothes, we'll get you some fake documents and buy you a plane ticket. You can stay with me in Paris, but just until you have enough money to buy yourself an apartment."

Steve smiled relieved. He would have even hugged her if his arms didn't hurt so much.

"Come, now, we have to buy you some new clothes. Yours are… Sweaty and bloody. It's gross." Natasha stood and started to make her way to the door, he followed.

**~X~**

"You stay in the car, Steve," She said while putting on her wig and piercings back on, "If you want to hang out with me, then you'll have to be a punk, is that okay with you?"

"Whatever." He shrugged, Steve could care less about that.

"Oh, and you'll have to dye your hair and grow a beard. I'm leaving in two weeks, you'll have plenty of time to grow one." Natasha added before leaving the car.

She went into a store and bought him a black leather jacket, a pair of pants, black boots and a shirt. Then she went back to the car.

"There you are, Captain Rogers." She handed him the bags, "Now we're going to a motel."

"Wait, what?!" He asked confused.

"I can't drive you to your place and you're certainly not going to mine until you're clean and unrecognisable."

"Okay." He muttered and looked out of the window. His life was a complete mess. Not for the first time, he started to miss the 40s, his old life, Peggy, Bucky, New York, Brooklyn, his mum…

They got to the motel before making a quick stop at a convenience store. Natasha bought black hair dye, shampoo, and all they might need for a complete makeover of Steve.

**~X~**

The complete makeover took them around four hours, but when they were finished, Steve looked like a completely different person.

"Wow." Natasha breathed, "You look very good."

"Thanks." Steve ran a hand through his hair as he looked at his reflection in the mirror, he would have to grow used to the man who started back at him in the mirror.

"Let's go then, we still have a lot of work to do." Natasha said, "Don't worry about the garbage, just take your old clothes, we'll have to burn them, and don't forget about the shield.

Steve got it and they left the place after paying.

The drive to her apartment was silent and it started to rain, a light, cold rain.

They bought him the plane ticked and made him a fake id, a fake passport and fake green cards for both of them. They were ready for the trip, the only thing they still had to do was by Steve some more clothes so he could travel.

"You'll be sleeping here." Natasha pointed to her bed.

"What? But where will you sleep?" Steve asked.

"I don't usually sleep, besides, if I change my mind in the middle of the night, there is always the couch." Natasha shrugged.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Steve, I'm sure." Natasha flashed him a tired smile, "You can sleep however you want, I won't be going into the bedroom once you're asleep. There's food and vodka in the fridge, cereal in the cupboard as well as chips and popcorn, if you want anything, you can just go and get it, you don't need to ask for permission."

"Okay, got it." He muttered, "Thank you, Natasha, you're the best, I mean it."

"It's nothing Steve, really." She looked down to hide the small smile that formed on her lips.

He got a bag of chips and shared it with her. They didn't eat much.

"Good night," Steve said and then added, "I always knew I could trust you."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Okay, this fanfic is a Romanogers one, however, there will be some mentions of Bucky (James/The Winter Soldier) here and his romance with Natasha and Steve finding out before they finally get involved. I mean, they can't just go and start kissing out of nowhere (they can but it would be no fun hehehe)**

**-Enjoy :3**

**~X~**

Finally the day they most expected and feared came. After two weeks of sharing her apartment, Natasha finally decided Steve was the perfect roomate, he was clean, minimalistic, organized, he helped with the chores, he didn't mind the time she arrived at home, he never asked questions and he usually didn't stay up waiting for her.

Perhaps staying in Paris with him wouldn't be so bad after all. Truth was, Natasha didn't mind sharing, she really didn't, actually, she liked company, but spending too much time with her meant some serious damage, his life could be put at risk and, to her, the life of her friends mattered more than hers, so much more, they were like her family.

But, of course, they didn't know that, she'd rather keep people away than to lose them after, she had already lost too much.

She helped him with getting ready. Absolutely no idea of how he could change styles, she helped him.

"You will be a business man today, Steve." He smiled and got the suit he had bought as a part of his disguise wardrobe. "We'll have to practice your walk and the way you talk."

"Sure." He nodded and took a shower before putting on the suit.

"You have to seem busy, uptight. Always talking on the phone while in the line or in the waiting room." Natasha paused for a moment, "You speak French, right?"

"Yup." He nodded.

"Then you'll be a French businessman." She said, "1 sec." Natasha rushed to the room and made a phone call, speaking in Russian. Then she rushed back to where he was.

"Now we're in the French system," Natasha said, "You are Pierre Bertrand, a French businessman."

"Good!" Steve said, "And who are you?"

"I am Béatrice Dubois." She smiled and continued teaching him how to be a French businessman.

She put on a plain brown wig, basic makeup and clothes and got her suitcases. She knew a few people in the airplane, so she could take some of her weaponry with her. She made sure that both her and Steve looked as plain as possible so they wouldn't be stopped by immigration, but she also took her punk outfit with her, she loved it too much to let it go.

**~X~**

"Are you ready?" She asked with a mysterious smile.

"Yeah, are you?" He replied.

"Yup." She bit her lip, "Are you sure? If you do this there's no going back."

"Nat, I'm not leaving you, I don't want you to be alone and plus, I need this too."

"I just wanted to make sure." Natasha ran a hand through her wig and put on her sunglasses.

They got on the cab and left to the airport.

As expected, everything went well and the boarded the flight, Emirates first class. She knew a lot of people who owed her favors, so she managed to get the best of everything.

**~X~**

It was night when they arrived in Paris, and they were very tired so they went straight to her apartment. Back in the time when she was rich, Natasha bought that apartment, it was on the 16th arrodissement, one of the best areas of Paris, it had three bedrooms, one living room that was the size of her apartment in New York and one fully equipped kitchen. It was fairly big and she had time to decorate it when she lived in Europe.

There was a coat of dust covering everything, from the ground to the ceiling, after all those years, and she was happy to see that no one had tried to break in.

"It's a nice apartment." Steve sighed looking around tiredly, "Where do I sleep?"

"Here." She chuckled as she led him through the hallway and opened the door of the second room.

"Good night, Nat."

"Oh, Steve, I forgot to tell you that both of our rooms are suites, so if you want to have a bath or use the bathroom, take your time, I have one bathroom of my own."

"Thanks, Nat." He closed the door behind him, "Good night."

Then she was all by her self and had time to let it all sink in.

Once, she shared that apartment with James, when they worked together – more than worked – and they had some time to settle down and make that their Headquarters. Both of them were trained assassins and know all over the world, they knew how to defend themselves and everyone knew that they were together so there was no problem in doing couple stuff, like decorating apartments.

Natasha walked to the living room and chose one of the books from the shelf, Anna Karenina, a unique copy written in Russian and given to her by James, he even signed the book. That was their favorite book, sometimes they quoted it when they spoke. Memories... She smiled a little as she opened the book. His scent still clung to the pages. She closed it and put it back in place, right next to a picture of them together.

He was everywhere, the ghost of him, she could feel him staring at her from the corner, she could see him sitting on the armchair polishing his knives. His presence was there and all the memories passed in front of her eyes, they were like a theater being played in front of her. And to know that he wasn't there anymore, that she would most likely never feel him again, his fingertips against her skin, it was terrible.

After all those years without him, Natasha started to actually believe she had learned how to cope, but, as always, her convictions were all proved wrong, the mark he left was too deep for her to let go.

She still missed James and being there just reminded her of how much.

Natasha groaned, she was tired and all those thoughts... it would do her no good. She made her way to the bedroom taking her wig off. When she was finally aware of her surroundings, she realized that James had forgotten his shirt on her bedroom floor. He left it the last time he was there, the last time _they _had been there, before he vanished.

She had a long shower, as if the hot water would make it all go away, as if it would clean not only her body, but her soul and mind as well. It didn't work.

That night, she gave into the desire of wearing his shirt to sleep.

**~X~**

"What on Earth are you wearing, Natasha? Whose shirt is this?" Steve gasped when he entered the kitchen the next morning.

"It was just an old rag I found in my closet." She was wearing James' shirt with pants. She had gone to the supermarket that morning and bought some food, she had time to clean the apartment, so the dust was now gone.

"It seems that you've adjusted to sharing the apartment quite well." He smiled looking around.

"I wish I could say the same to you." She took a bite from the pancakes she made and pointed at his bare chest with her fork. "Nice six pack, by the way."

"You've already seen it before, I'm not going to cover it. Besides, it's not like I'm not wearing pants."

"Okay, you've got a point." She gave in, "Want pancakes? Made them myself."

"Not sure if I should trust your cooking skills."

"Come on, Steve, I went shopping this morning." She pouted.

"Okay, okay." He said and served himself. He took a bite, "Those are really good."

"Told you."

**~X~**

"We're here, we're in Paris, so now what?" Steve asked when he finished eating.

"You go find a job and gather some money so you can buy your own apartment." She looked over her shoulder from the sink where she was washing the dishes.

"Already throwing me out, Mademoisele Béatrice?" He used the name on her passport.

"What can I do, Monseur Pierre?" She laughed.

"And what are _you_ going to do? Sleep until 1 p.m and spend the day out shopping and sightseeing?" He joked.

Natasha set the plates down on the sink and turned to face him, a smirk playing on her lips. "I wish. I'm also working. I already have plenty of things to work with."

"Already? But it's Saturday and we've just arrived, I was hoping we could go sightseeing."

"Sorry, Steve, I have to work."

"And what are you working on?"

"On the things I do best."

"Nat... are you working with the underground mobsters, are you?"

"A girl has to eat, Steve."

"A girl has to respect herself, Natasha. You are so much better than that, you are more than just a killer, Natasha."

"Am I, Steve?" She turned to face him.

"You are." Steve said, "I mean, I'm not being a moralist here. You want to work at McDonald's, go work in McDonald's, you want to be a doctor, go be a doctor, you want to be a prostitute, go and be a prostitute, there's nothing wrong with it. But please, _please _don't be a killer, don't do this."

"I think you're asking a bit too much of me, Steve. This is the one thing I'm good at." She clenched her fists, she wasn't going to kill anyone, she would only torture.

"Natasha, you're so smart, you are brilliant, why do you think so lowly of yourself?"

The redhead stopped for a second. She knew that what she was doing was wrong and dangerous, but she liked it, she really did. Torturing was one thing she really liked to do, she knew it in some part of her buried really deep inside, a part of her that she didn't allow to see the sunlight she loved to torture people. Plus, she would be hunting her enemies.

"Steve, I _must _do this, don't you see? I don't have another chance, I can't start over, I'm known worldwide. And I was promised information on Hydra. And that means information on James. We can end this, Steve, we can end Hydra. I can't say no to this oportunty.

"James... Do you mean... Bucky?"Natasha heard him say.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the only word in her head was _'Careless'_ She had been careless.

That morning, she had woken up early to hide all of the traces of James, of any other male presence, she managed to do that, the photographs, everything, but she'd forgotten to train herslef not say and she let is name slip.

"What? Who is Bucky?" She walked to where he was.

"James is. He is Bucky. He is the Winter Soldier, he is the ghost." The look on Steve's face was one of disconcert, she couldn't blame him.

"The one I knew was James, Steve, The Asset, The Winter Soldier" She said, "The Bucky you knew is dead and gone. You watched him die, Steve."

"How... _How dare you?_" He raised his voice, " How dare you say that? You don't know Bucky, _I _grew up with him, I watched him die and then rise from the dead, I fought him, I..."

"Steve..." She touched his arm lightly.

"Don't you touch me! Don't you lie to me and tell me you didn't know. Don't you open your mouth if all you're going to say are lies, you're not going to convince me of anything, I'm not like the others I'm not going to fall for your charm." He hissed, "I want the truth, did you or did you not know Bucky?"

"I knew James, I knew the Asset, the machine built by the Red Room. The same way he knew me not as Natalia Romanova, but as Natasha Romanoff as the Black Widow." She told him, "The man you knew, Steve, he changed. The same way I changed and you changed. Just as you, he spent a long time frozen in cryogen, Steve. Things like that, things he and I have gone through, they are mote than enough to scar people for a lifetime, to cause a drastic change in anyone."

"But why didn't you tell me you knew him?"

"I never said I didn't."

Steve groaned in frustration and anger.

"Is this his shirt?"

Natasha said nothing.

"I said, _Is this his shirt?_"

"Yes it is, but now it's mine." Her voice was dry, "And I don't expect you to understand. I know that you've lost a lot of people that mattered to you, more than anyone should ever lose, but I just couldn't tell you. I just... I just couldn't."

"You're right, Natasha I don't understand."

She could tell by the look on his face that he was in pain, but so was she and he couldn't see it, he failed to see it just like everyone else, he didn't understand that James meant just as much to her as Bucky meant to him.

"Shit..." She muttered as she felt the tears spilling down her cheeks.

Then she realized that there was no reason for her to hold it back anymore.

Steve stopped and looked at her.

"When will you realize, Steve, that he meant as much to me as he did to you? That I have lost just as many people as you have and that I had to watch them die in front of me and could do nothing?" She spat those words, "When will you finally realize that I am how I am for a reason, that everything I do, every precaution I take, every smile I don't give, every single person I don't let in and every person I kill... It all has a reason."

He wiped the tears away from her face .

Alexei, James, Ivan, her mom, all of the people she cared about, all gone and she could do nothing to bring them back, she could do nothing to soothe the pain she felt but pretend that it wasn't there.

"I... I'm sorry, Nat... I... I didn't mean for this to happen." He stuttered, clearly nervous and not knowing what to say. Then he hugged her.

"It's okay to cry, Nat. You can cry as much as you want, I'm here for you." He whispered and that only made her cry more.

It was the first time someone told her such a thing, the first time in a long while that someone seemed to care about her and how she felt, even if they didn't understand it fully.

Then she looked up, straight into his blue eyes. They were as blue as the ocean and the sky, a mix of the two, and she felt him stare straight into her green ones.

And it was like a mix of the ocean and the forest when they kissed. It was so light, so unsure and so certain at the same time, they craved that, they craved that human contact, that emotion. In so many levels they needed each other, levels beyond their understanding.

She let go, it was wrong, that was so wrong. She felt as if both of them – especially her – were taking advantage of that situation of emotional fragility.

But she didn't care, she craved that, she craved him, every part of her body craved his touch, his voice, his taste, she wanted Steve and she could tell he wanted her too.

"Steve," She broke away from his embrace, "Say, let's forget about this, let's forget all of this happened. This is wrong in so many levels."

"Nat... Please." He reached for her.

"I can't take advantage of you like that, not of you."

"But are you taking advantage?"

"I don't know, Steve, it's better if we just stay friends in order for this to work out, even if just for now, Steve." Natasha said and wiped the remaining tears away from her face.

"Natasha..." He muttered.

"I'm going out, now, Steve," She ran a hand through her head, "I have a lot to do before tonight."

"Natasha..." He said again, "Okay, go. Should I wait up?"

"No." She walked to her bedroom and got ready to leave, the wig, the makeup, the clothes, everything.

"See you later, Steve." She locked the door behind her.

"See you." He sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

_**IMPORTANT!**_** There are torture scenes in this chapter.**

**~X~**

Steve felt as if he had done something very wrong. Even though he tried to tell himself that what he did was acceptable, he couldn't help but feel as if he had taken advantage of her. He told himself that they were both in a moment of fragility and that he wasn't forcing her to do anything, however some voice on the back of his head screamed and reprehended him. It was all his fault, she ran away because he was selfish and couldn't accept the fact that someone other than him cherished James just as much.

He sat on the couch and tried to figure out what to do. He had no money to go out and eat or go shopping and he didn't actually feel like going out, so he decided to work on his CV to send to whatever company he wanted to apply to. He stared at the blank page trying to figure out what to write, but he had no idea. He didn't even know what kind of job he wanted.

Perhaps he should start with that.

Maybe... Maybe he could work on publicity. It was an area where he could work with all of his creativity and draw. Or maybe an illustrator, there was so many things he could do... Steve opened the browser and did some research. He felt like a kid who had just gotten out of university and was searching for a job, perhaps that was his second chance on life, a chance to start over and do what he never had the chance to do when he was younger.

Maybe he could be an industrial designer, or just be a painter and sell his work in the open air fairs in Paris. No, that was a silly idea.

Either way, what could he write? Maybe he should ask Natasha, she might know what to do, how to put him in the best schools without him being there.

Anyway, if he wanted to succeed, he'd have to do some research on companies and schools and even some information on artists and the best places to buy art supplies.

**~X~**

The room was small and built entirely of stone and cement except for the heavy, rusty iron door and the vent. In the room there was a wooden table with a metal tray on it, the surface of the table was large so all the torture instruments would fit there. On the ceiling of the room, there was a fluorescent light bulb, it lit up the whole room, giving it some sort of a strange ethereal glow, like that of a hospital.

All those traits were familiar to her, she had been there many times and, sure the atmosphere was almost claustrophobic, but she liked it, it brought a familiarity feeling with it, after all, most of her time in the Red Room was spent doing that, either torturing or being tortured in one of those rooms.

"Are you familiar with the Black Widow spider and the properties of its venom?" Natasha asked, her footsteps were silent as she walked towards the table and reached for a syringe.

"N-No..." The man stuttered.

"Well, it contains a substance known as alpha-latrotoxin, a toxin that works on the neurological system, it causes all of the neurons to dump out their neurotransmitters, causing a lot of pain." Natasha paused, "You see, were it only the pain, it would make no difference, but the pain becomes unbearable because, in the venom there are various substances that enhance the pain."

The redhead walked towards the man, the syringe filled with the venom.

"The venom is fatal, but most people don't die because the spiders are not aggressive ones in most of the cases. Luckily, I'm trying to gather some info here, so you'll have some time before you die." She said and stuck the needle into his arm pressing the syringe plunge and emptying it inside the man's body.

There was only a little venom, the right amount to make him feel a lot of pain but not enough to kill him. And since she injected it into his arm's muscle, it would take longer for him to actually feel the pain, for it wouldn't kick in so fast.

"Let's see..." She muttered, "You have ten minutes before the effects begin to work. The sooner you talk, the sooner you get the antidote."

**~X~**

It was 4 p.m and there was no sign of Natasha anywhere. He didn't call her or anything, he knew she wouldn't like that, but still, he was worried about her, she was a friend – perhaps more than a friend – and he cared about her.]

"It's no good," He muttered to himself, "She won't show unless she wants to."

He couldn't just sit down there and wait for her, he had never been to Paris like that before and he wouldn't waste his opportunity, there were so many places to see and he still had some money on his bank account, he could use it.

Steve had a shower, put on some clothes and left the place after eating something. He went to see the Eiffel Tower and the Arch of Triumph, then he decided he wanted to see those open air fairs where artists sold their work and there were books, the same ones he saw in Midnight in Paris. He loved that film.

He visited all those incredible sights by himself, and it was getting dark and the entire city was beginning to light up, the stores, everything and he knew it was true what they said, Paris was even more beautiful at night. Wandering on the streets, he decided to stop to eat something. He bought himself a crepe on a cart.

All that time, he couldn't stop thinking of Natasha and he saw her in every redhead that passed by. Steve shook those thought away and decided he was there to enjoy himself, to run away from all of his worries, to start over and clinging to the past, to mistakes he made would do him no good.

**~X~**

The man growled in pain, the muscle spasms were really intense and she knew it, she had undergone that training when she was younger, she had been exposed to real Black Widows, to their venoms, everything. Surprisingly, she didn't have any empathy for the man helplessly groaning and screaming in front of her.

Lack of empathy was one of the pre-requisites to be a Black Widow or an assassin in general.

"I asked you, where is the Winter Soldier?" Her voice was ice cold, "Don't make me repeat myself."

"I'm never going to tell you."

"Aren't you?"

"Even if you find him, it's not going to end, Hydra is never going to end, there will always be someone like me tied to this chair and they might even give you information, but you can't end us, not even if you kill our leader or kill the Winter Soldier. He's not our only weapon."

"Yes, you might me right. They are smart, they will give me information and I'll make sure they suffer, I'll make sure you'll suffer to serve as an example, when you leave this room, you'll be disfigured, no one will recognize you. Ever." She hissed, even though it didn't seem like she was noticing his words she actually was, she was making mental notes of every single thing he said.

They knew where James was, that was a start, a pretty good one.

Natasha walked to the table and gathered her torture instruments before injecting a little bit of antidote on him, just enough so he wouldn't die and then left the room.

She took the elevator and went to the first floor, where he employer was waiting to know how things went. Dmitri was a man whom she had worked with in her early years. When she met him he was a young man taking over his father's business and she helped him with it. Once, the Red Room sent her to seduce him and extract information... Needless to say, they had a history and a weird kind of partnership.

After so many years without seeing him, she was happy to see that he was still in shape and had hair. That spark in his eyes of so many years before was still there. She wished people could say the same about her.

*****"_Natasha!" _Dmitri exclaimed, "_What have you got for me this evening? Did he give you any important information?"_

"_Dmitri." _Natasha greeted, and then said, "_Expect a full report of what he said in the morning. However, I'm not finished yet."_

"_Very well, take as much time as you need." _

"_When am I to expect payment?"_

"_As soon as you get me what I want." _Her employer said, _"30.000 Euros per victim, correct?"_

"_Correct." _She nodded, "_I'm not so certain that this man can give you all the info, I might have to go on a hunt for another one."_

"_No problem."_

"_In case of a hunt, my price doubles."_

"_But how will I know you're not cheating."_

"_Add a camera and a microphone in the room if it pleases you. I don't need you to trust me, you want proof, I'll give you proof and then I want my money. I'm sure you have plenty of it."_

"_You know, Natasha, that's why I like you. You are assertive and you get the work done. You are effective."_

"_My effectiveness has a price, Dmitri, you know it." _

"_I do." _The man nodded.

"_I must leave, Mitia." _Natasha ran a hand through her hair and walked past him, leaving the building.

"_See you tomorrow then, Natasha."_

**~X~**

It was ten o'clock when Natasha arrived at the place. She was absolutely exhausted and her hands were dirty. She locked the door behind her and sighed.

"Steve?" The red head called.

"Yes. I'm making myself some food, do you want some?"

"Yes, _please._" She said, "I'm going to have a shower."

"Okay, the food will be ready in ten."

Natasha took off her clothes and, even though Steve said that the food would be ready in ten minutes, she spent around fifteen minutes in the shower, as if the burning hot water would make the blood go away, but it wouldn't her soul was stained and she couldn't have a new soul, she couldn't start over no matter what she did, the blood would always be there, all the people she killed would always haunt her and she would spend the rest of her life listening to their screams of pain.

**~X~**

Natasha went to the living room and found that the 'dinner' Steve told her about was actually a baguette sandwich, he made two, one for him and one for her.

"Here you are." He handed her the plate.

"Thanks." She chuckled.

"Let's sit on the couch, it's more comfortable there." Steve said and went to the living room.

"Sure." She followed and sat by his side on the couch.

Steve sighed relaxed and took a bite of his sandwich.

"Boy, I was hungry." He smiled like a child.

For a moment, she said nothing, she just stared at the food before finally taking a bite. That was good. She knew he made it with the food she had bought that morning.

"Hey, Steve." Natasha said somewhat uncomfortable with the atmosphere in the room where they were eating, "I'm sorry for today, I don't know what got into me."

"I don't either." Steve laughed.

"What do you mean by that?" Her mood shifted from a dark one to a suddenly light one, she laughed too.

"I mean, I don't know what got into you." He smiled at her, teasingly.

Natasha ate some more of the sandwich he made and drank some water.

"Nat, I don't want you to think that I was taking advantage of your emotional state."

"Steve, I know you didn't take advantage of me or anything like that, I mean, I know you Steve, I know you wouldn't do something like that." She said and then muttered to herself, "You're not like the rest."

If he heard what she said, he didn't let her know.

"That's good. Then you'll know I'm not taking advantage of you when I do this." Steve turned to face her. He placed one of his hands on her back, pulling her closer and kissed her.

Why deny it? Why deny the desire between them? Why deny the chemistry between them? Why deny the human contact they needed so much?

There was no reason for that.

***Translated from Russian.**

**~X~**

**A/N: First of all, I wanted to thank all of you who left reviews, you guys have no idea of just how happy it makes me when people leave reviews. Second of all, I have the need to reply to a comment someone left, a guest said: "He should be a moralist and it is wrong."**

**Well, it refers to certain passage on the last chapter that said "I mean, I'm not being a moralist here."**

**I wanted to say that Steve is not a moralist, I picture him as being a feminist actually. You can see that in Captain America the First Avenger, he never underestimates Peggy, not even once, Steve believes in the power of women and he doesn't judge them. He might be an old fashioned man, but you can see that he thinks way ahead of his time.**

**I could go on and on about this for hours, but, the bottom line is, Steve is not a moralist and he never was. If you think he is, then you have a serious character misconception.**


End file.
